Girl Gone Viral (Modern Love #2)(51)

She wasn’t angry now, but incredulous. And okay, also angry. “You could have hurt yourself.”

“Nah. I didn’t spray it directly into my eyes. Now we know how someone will react to it. It’s not as strong as the commercial ones for sure, by the way, it faded fast. It’s not burning now.”

“That was fast?”

“Relatively.” He shrugged. “It was a good experiment.”

“I beg to differ.” So much for quiet. She’d shouted that sentence.

“Hey.” He slid his hand up her arm. “I’m fine now.”

And just like that, she was utterly distracted. His hand went down her forearm, then up again, against the grain of the hairs on her skin, lifting them up. And again.

She found herself matching his breathing again, without his prompting this time. She inched closer. His eyes were so watery she almost teared up herself. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

The corner of his mouth kicked up. “I did it to myself.”

She bit her lip. “Actually, you know what? You’re right. That was a ridiculous thing to do, and I am not sorry. You need to take better care of yourself.”

He slid his hand down, until they were palm to palm. Their fingers didn’t interlace or anything, but her thumb did curl over the side of his hand.

“I guess I do.” His pinkie curled around the other side of her hand.

Oh no.

Now that the crisis was over, she could appreciate his bare chest once again. Truly, if only there were more less stressful situations where one could deploy the your shirt is compromised, take it off line.

She didn’t know when she had moved closer, but suddenly she could count every hair in his beautiful eyebrows. With him sitting down, she had to look down slightly to make eye contact with him.

His eyes dropped to her lips and she held her breath. She swayed forward and waited.

His face came closer, and his hand tightened on hers, and her brain took a momentary break from functioning.

That was the only way she could explain why and how their lips met.

She’d been kissed before in her life, of course. Two men she’d managed to sneak away with while she lived under her father’s thumb. A chaste kiss from Hardeep when they were wed.

This was like nothing else she’d ever felt. Like nothing else she’d ever feel. No tongue, nothing extravagant, nothing but the press of lips against hers for a minute, maybe more, and it was like a live current hit her body, restarting her heart. Like she’d been doused in the fiery hot spray, not him.

Actually, the fiery part may be contact with a trace amount of pepper remaining on his face.

Nope, it was him.

His lips moved against hers. They were dry and full, the scrape from the stubble on his face scratching her upper lip. She tilted her head and shyly opened her lips. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder. His naked, warm shoulder. She petted the skin, stroking now, grateful he’d removed his shirt.

His reaction was explosive. Her eyes flew open when he shoved away from her, nearly upending his chair as he came to his feet. “I’m going to go shower.”

That was maybe the last thing she’d expected him to say. She blinked stupidly at him. “What?”

“I’m going to shower. Worked out. Sprayed. Need a shower.” He nodded rapidly, and with every giant step he took as he moonwalked from her, her soul filled with dread. He bumped into the wall and pivoted, his feet moving only slightly too slow to be called a full-out sprint from the room.

Dear Lord. She may not have a great deal of experience, but a man running away after a kiss wasn’t a great sign, was it?

Her heart sank and she thumped down into the seat he’d vacated, staring at the empty opening of the kitchen. “No, no, no,” she whispered, horror filling the place that exultation had occupied.

What had she done?





Chapter Seventeen


WHAT DID YOU DO?

Jas glanced at the kitchen window out of the corner of his eye. His finally nonburning eye, thank God. He was only grateful that Katrina’s concoction, while initially painful, had been relatively mild in aftereffects.

He and Katrina had avoided each other for the last couple hours. He’d come outside. She’d taken over the kitchen. He had no idea what she was cooking, except she was possibly using every ingredient in their pantry and kitchen, as well as every pot and pan in their house.

Jas stabbed his spade into the ground. He yanked out the dandelion and dumped it in the garbage bag. The garden around the house had been somewhat maintained. Not to his high standards, but not bad. He was mostly out here because he could keep an eye on Katrina through the kitchen window. All without actually talking to her.

He’d kissed her. How could he have done that? How had he allowed almost a decade of pent-up need and affection to escape? He prided himself on suppressing . . . well, everything.

He hacked at the root of a particularly stubborn weed. He’d slipped and let his feelings come out, done the worst possible thing he could do. He swallowed, the self-disgust nearly choking him.

He had to apologize. He rested his rusted spade on the ground and glanced up at the window. She came into view, tying her hair up on top of her head, her round face in profile. Her lips were bare of lip gloss, and they were perfect, the bottom full and pouty, the top a sweet bow. She’d showered and changed as well, and her loose green shirt was the same color as the emerald dress she’d worn when he’d first seen her.